It’s the Little Things

Some of my fondest memories of growing up were the times spent with my mom.
Her name was Dorothy Jane, but everyone called her “Dot” for short. She stood just 5 feet tall, but when I was 4 years old, she seemed like a giant.

When my mom drove the car, her head would barely clear the height of the dashboard of our blue DeSoto. She would push her sleeves to her elbows before raising her arms to place her hands on the huge steering wheel and then we would take off up and down the big hills of our hometown to run errands downtown.

After taking care of business, we would sit on the red stools at the Woolworth’s counter, order a chocolate sundae and drink water from those white, cone-shaped paper cups in the metal holders.

Being such a wise mom, she often told me that “too much of anything is not good”. I ponder that thought to this day and still try to refute that theory, but still can’t think of anything the rule does not apply to. If you can think of any exceptions to the rule, please let me know.

But, it’s not the great accomplishments my mom did that she will be remembered for. It is the kindness, it’s playing cards and laughing so very hard, it’s holding hands, it’s walking together to swim lessons that I will remember the most about my mom.

My brother would say that it’s the countless meals that he remembers the most.
She would turn the lemons from her Meyer’s lemon tree into a most delicious lemon meringue pie.

My mom was not rich and was not a celebrity, but she was a selfless, simple, joy-filled, woman of God. She taught her family, by example, what it is to be like Jesus. Even though she wore a size 5 shoe, she had big shoes to fill and I hope someday to follow in her loving footsteps.